Hand in Hand
by JuliaBC
Summary: WDZ. Scenes from Rosarita's last summer in Los Angeles. Part One in a series.
1. Chapter 1

Part One

_With you hand in hand_  
_seek other pastures and other rivers,_  
_other flowery and shady valleys,_  
_where rest, and always I can see_  
_before mine eyes,_  
_without fear and dread of losing. _

Translated from a poem by Garcilaso de la Vega

* * *

Chapter One

Rosarita went flying down the hillside, free from her lessons at last. She carried her shoes, having taken them off some time ago. She knew exactly where she was going: to Diego. He was sure to be waiting at the tree that divided her family's rancho from his.

The day was brilliant, one of the summer days California is famous for. The sky was bluer than it seemed possible, the grass was crisp underfoot because of the usual summer drought and Rosarita's spirits were flying along with her feet as she descended, to see Diego indeed waiting for her, but he was not alone. With him stood Benito, his father's head vaquero's son, and Ricardo del Amo, a boy who always visited his uncle in the summer.

Rosarita skidded to a stop, panting. She'd forgotten that Ricardo had arrived for his annual summer visit at his aunt's rancho. She didn't like Ricardo and he didn't like playing with girls.

"Hello, Diego, Benito, Ricardo," she gasped. "What are you doing?"

"We haven't decided yet," Diego told her, smiling.

"I want to go to my aunt's rancho but Diego says it is too far," Ricardo said. He was lying on the ground, lazily studying the sky.

"And Benito wants to practice with lassoes and riding, eh, muchacho?"

Benito looked shyly around. "Si, patron. I can teach you a new trick I learned."

"We can't do that with a girl around, though," Ricardo said in disgust, hopping to his feet and addressing Rosarita.

"Why not?" Rosarita demanded. "I like horses!"

"You're a girl," Ricardo said, painstakingly, as if everyone didn't already know that.

Diego rolled his eyes and shoved Ricardo's shoulder. "We're already been over this," he reminded his friend. "Rosarita will be playing with us."

"But she's a girl!"

"So?" Rosarita demanded. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You should be home, sewing or something. You can't play the games we do!"

"That's what you think," she retorted. "Just the other day, I beat Diego in a foot race!"

"Oh, really?" Ricardo drawled.

Diego nodded. "Rosarita is faster than I am, Ricardo, and it follows that since I am faster than you, she is, too."

"So we're doing a race?" Benito piped up.

"Yes, we are," Ricardo growled. "And may the best man win!"

Ricardo glared at her while she studied him, and his build.

He was taller than her, taller than she remembered.

But Diego was also tall. Height didn't matter.

"Si, we race right now!" Rosarita decided. "Just let me pull my hair back."

Ricardo groaned. "See?" He demanded. "She is a girl!"

* * *

Diego was leading the way to a better piece of land for racing, to one of the de la Vega pastures that didn't have cattle currently occupying it. Once there, he instructed Benito to run out to the tree that was to be the finish line, to make sure that the two participants didn't cheat.

While Benito ran there, Diego pulled Rosarita aside for a moment.

"Are you sure you can do it?" He asked her, anxious.

She wanted to be angry with him for doubting her, but she knew that he was having the same thoughts she was: the last time Diego had raced Ricardo was last year, and this year Ricardo was taller than both of them. _Could_ she win?

"Yes, I am," she told him.

"Good, he needs to be taught a lesson!"

He led her back to the starting point. "All right, on my mark. When I drop Rosarita's handkerchief, you go."

Rosarita tensed up expectantly. The handkerchief fell. She was off.

Ricardo had an early lead, shooting off like a ball shot from a cannon, but Rosarita knew that fast starts could lead to tired finishes. She ran steadily, the wind in her ears, and clutching her skirts to keep them out of her way.

She wished she could have tucked them up like she would have last summer, but she was ten now. It was already stretching the rules of propriety to be racing at all. In fact, she knew no one would approve.

She also knew this would be the last chance she got to beat Ricardo in anything. She'd heard vague rumors that Ricardo wasn't coming next summer for his visit to Los Angeles and she knew that it was likely they'd be old enough to marry before they met again.

_What a horrifying thought._ Marriage was not something on Rosarita's mind at all except…an image of Diego came to her mind, all sparkling eyes, wavy hair and a laughing smile.

_Maybe marriage wouldn't be so bad, if you had the fortune to marry the right person._

But races aren't won by contemplating marriage to your best friend. Rosarita made up her mind to pass Ricardo, and in moments, she did, and collapsed at the finish line, gasping for air. She'd won, but Ricardo didn't even seem like he was tired. She looked at his long legs with scorn, then her gaze went up to his face.

He wasn't smiling, but he'd lost his earlier attitude as he extended a hand for her to take.

Rosarita did so. Her own was trembling.

"You won," Ricardo noted.

"Si," she gasped.

Ricardo appraised her. "Do you have wolf blood, or something? How could you run that quickly?"

She shrugged, not letting herself react to the casual words. "Maybe _because_ I am a girl," she said. She could see Diego, out of the corner of her eye. He was catching up to them.

Ricardo then did something that surprised her, very much. He smiled, then he laughed, tossing his head back.

She was surprised at how much it transformed him. She let a smile come to her own lips as Diego came running up.

"Who won?"

"I did," Rosarita beamed, and her smile widened when Diego congratulated her heartily.

"I knew you could do it," he told her. "So how about it, Ricardo? Is she still meant to be sewing?"

"Si," Ricardo said. "But even my sisters don't sew all the time."

"Is that your way of giving your permission for me to be here?" Rosarita teased. Ricardo just shrugged.

"Race you back," he said. "And then we'll go with Benito's plan."

* * *

Rosarita fell to the dusty ground with a gasp. Beside her, Diego and Benito were trying to teach Ricardo rope tricks. He wasn't picking it up quickly.

"Rosarita, are you all right?" Diego asked, turning when he realized that he'd knocked her down, in his enthusiasm.

Rosarita, feeling cross, stood up without help. "I'm fine," she told him. "Aren't you done yet? We've been out here for hours!"

Ricardo ran, whooping, past, twirling the rope, and it fell over him, sending Benito and Diego into fits of laughter. "Come on, Ricardo, you want to rope the fence post, not yourself!"

Ricardo scowled, standing back up and untangling himself. "I noticed you aren't that good either, Diego," he retorted. "And that you've so far avoided doing anything with the rope."

Diego straightened, his back stiffening. "What are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything," Ricardo scoffed. "But don't pretend you are any better at this than I am!"

"I am better than you are!" Diego snapped, and strode forward to take the rope from Ricardo's hand. "I'll show you. There's the fence post, and here is the rope and that—" Diego twirled his wrist and the rope flew through the air to gracefully fall over the post— "is how you do this."

At the edge, Benito and Rosarita exchanged uneasy glances. "Patron, maybe we should do something else now. Aren't we tired of rope tricks?"

"Si, very!" Rosarita added. "I think we should go up to the hacienda and—"

Ricardo and Diego ignored them. Ricardo's eyes were flashing with anger and Diego's pride had taken over. Rosarita darted towards them, but too late to stop the first punch being taken.

In moments, there was a full-scale brawl going on, with Rosarita and Benito darting on the edges, trying to find an opening to stop the two older boys.

"Diego, Ricardo, you have to stop! Remember how angry Don Alejandro and your Uncle Felipe got last time? Please!" Rosarita begged, and Benito added to the entreaty.

When their words went unheeded, Benito and Rosarita exchanged glances and then dove into it themselves, forcing the boys away from each other. Benito took charge of Ricardo, and Rosarita grasped Diego firmly by the arm and started to drag him away. "Diego, why did you start a fight?"

"Ricardo threw the first punch," Diego told her.

"You threw the second," Rosarita retorted. "It takes two people to make a fight. Besides, couldn't you see that he was baiting you? And you succeeded with the rope! Why were you still angry?"

"This goes back to last summer," Diego said, sulky.

"Diego, you were never one to hold a grudge," Rosarita reminded.

"It wasn't holding a grudge, it was just remembering."

* * *

Later, Diego walked her home. It was almost dusk; she'd stayed to dinner for she and the boys had stayed out much longer than they'd intended.

She had hopped onto the fence bordering one of the de la Vega's pastures, and now walked it cautiously, arms straight out. Diego walked beside her, ready to catch her if she fell, and, to be honest, she wouldn't be surprised if she did.

She wobbled again, but managed to catch herself in the split second before she would have crushed Diego. He'd waited on high alert—not reaching to pull her down, or saying something foolish.

That was something she appreciated about Diego. He always let her choose what she'd do. If she'd fallen, he would have caught her but he wouldn't have scolded her for walking the fence.

So many people would not let her have that choice.

She smiled down at Diego and jumped off the fence to skip in front of him.

"Wasn't it a nice day?" She asked eagerly. "Even Ricardo was nice, after I won the race. And besides the fight."

"Ricardo's not that bad," Diego said. "It's just when you are around," he shrugged. "You are around. He doesn't like playing with girls."

"Why not?"

"Probably because he has four sisters," Diego explained. "Maybe if I had four sisters and they were always driving me crazy, maybe I wouldn't care to play with you either."

Rosarita giggled. "But I wouldn't be your sister!"

"True, but I'd think all girls were like that."

Rosarita frowned at the answer and walked a little slower. "What will we do when we grow up?" She asked Diego, carelessly.

Diego shrugged. "I will be a haciendado. What else could I be? And you will marry a don and have children."

"No, I didn't mean you and I. I meant we. What will _we_ be? Will we still be friends?"

"Of course," Diego said, with some surprise. "Why would we stop being friends?"

Rosarita almost laughed at how utterly clueless Diego was as to what her point was, and took that as a sign to drop the subject.

"Diego, we'll always do things like this, won't we?"

"It's a certainty," Diego smiled. "Again, why would we stop?"

Rosarita sighed. Diego sometimes thought too simply of things. If they were friends, that was all there was to it. He didn't think that anything might change. His only concern was that they themselves would change.

But maybe that was why she liked him, too.

The sun was bright in the sky, just beginning its long descent. Rosarita wanted to lag; she wanted to wait until the moon came out. But her parents were likely to be somewhat cross at her for staying so long already. There was no reason to tempt their tempers even more.

* * *

Diego was content. It had been a beautiful day, despite, or maybe because, of Ricardo's presence during their games. Though he could be annoying, and quarrelsome, if he was participating in a game, suddenly everything got more exciting, more fun, more competitive. He brought color to everything he did.

Benito was one of the best friends he had. No matter what, he always had fun with Benito.

And Rosarita, she was also fun.

Diego stole a look at her. Her hair was hanging loose around her face, and her cheeks were flushed. She was smiling—Rosarita was always smiling, no matter what.

Other girls, also, when they visited, they could be fun. Elena, Moneta and Margarita were excellent company. But Diego could not picture them beating Ricardo in a foot race. Moneta and Margarita were excellent riders, but they wouldn't participate in the lassoing games that Benito had organized. That would have been too unladylike.

Rosarita didn't care about that, but she could still hold her own when she was being ladylike. She could sew and ride and sit still in church, just like her female friends. But she could also shriek like an Indian and howl like a wolf.

Diego snuck another look at his friend, and wondered why she'd asked so many odd questions.

Of course nothing would change between them. They'd always be friends. What could part them?

* * *

A/N: This is part of a three chapter story, which is part of a three stories series. I haven't actually written the two sequels, but I have completed _this _one.

December 2014: I just edited this chapter, changing a few tiny things to make this fit into a story I'm writing about Ricardo.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

* * *

Rosarita had cried her last tear but she still felt horrible as she hurried along the path to the de la Vega hacienda. On the other side of the gate, she could hear shouts and the clanging of steel. She opened the gate to see Diego fencing with his father, and for a moment she forgot about her woes.

"Diego!" She exclaimed. "You are allowed to use steel now?"

The fight flourished, and then ended. Alejandro bowed to his son and walked off to give them their privacy.

Perhaps he already knew what tidings Rosarita brought.

Diego took off his mask and drank a long drink of water before walking over to Rosarita. He wiped the sweat off his face as he walked.

"Si, I am."

"When? For how long?"

"Just two days now," he told her, his eyes shining, pride in his voice.

"And you are already so good!" She cheered, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down. "Show me, please, Diego!"

"Of course!" Diego exclaimed, and went back to the center of the patio. "This is a coupe."

"Oh, Diego! You are so good at it!"

Diego came back over to her, trying to conceal his pride, but he had a swagger in his walk and the smile on his face only grew. "Do you want to hold it?"

Her eyes widened. "Diego! Do you mean it?"

He wiped the handle off with his handkerchief. "Of course," he said and handed it to her. She took it gingerly, hardly believing she held a real sword. It was light; just a sparring sword for young boys, but her arm still wavered momentarily when she first took it.

"Careful," Diego cautioned, but made no move to take it from her.

"Can—can I try some of the moves?" She begged, looking in awe at her hand.

"Of course," Diego said again. "You remember what I showed you. Try the coupe."

"Si!" She agreed and ran to the middle of the patio, having to forcefully keep the sword point off the ground.

Diego watched her. "All right. Show me your coupe."

Rosarita knew exactly what he wanted, knew exactly how it should look, but, while in her mind's eye she executed it perfectly, in reality, she tried and failed. Her footing was off and her arm wavered.

"No, here," Diego came running over. He stood behind her and placed his hand over hers, doing much to steady the sword. He aligned her body correctly. "Come on, do it with me." He said, and, with his hand clutched tightly over hers, together they executed a perfect coupe.

Rosarita could feel Diego's chest against her back and loved how they stopped together as he helped her with the other moves Alejandro had taught him. She sensed how his chin almost touched the top of her head during the moves and cherished the closeness she felt with him, emotionally and physically.

She hoped it would forever be like this, her and Diego, hand in hand.

She remembered, then.

"Diego, we are moving to Monterey!" She announced and the sword clattered to the floor, unnoticed by either.

"What do you mean?"

"My father, he says we should be nearer to grandmama, and he wants to live with her, because our cattle have not been doing so well and grandmama might be dying and we are leaving at the end of summer!" Rosarita barely paused while speaking, and Diego's countenance darkened with every word.

"This summer?" He asked, not believing her words.

"In just a few weeks," Rosarita explained and tears came to her eyes again. Diego couldn't have looked more shocked than if he'd been struck by lightning. He pulled away from her and paced the patio for a moment, tugging his ear.

"A few weeks?" Diego murmured. "But…Rosarita…weeks?" He repeated and she nodded.

"We'll have to make them good ones, then." Diego suddenly vowed. He picked up the sword again and handed it to her. "Come on. Let's do some more."

* * *

An hour later, they'd finished. Rosarita was noticing that Diego had been quieter than usual, and she couldn't help taking peeks at him as they walked into the sala, and then through to the kitchen, where Cresencia stood, fussing over dinner.

"Don Diego, Senorita Cortez. I expect you are hungry?" She asked, and Rosarita expected Diego to accept whatever she offered, but he shook his head.

"I just came for more water, Cresencia," he told her, and the older woman frowned at his terseness.

Diego led her back out, still quiet, and Rosarita hesitantly touched his arm.

"It isn't so bad, Diego. As you said, we'll make these weeks good ones."

Diego seemed to realize how quiet he'd been, and turned to her, a grin on his face. "I know. I was just thinking up ways to do that."

Rosarita sighed in relief. "My mother said I could stay to dinner again, if Don Alejandro didn't mind."

"Of course he won't," Diego told her quickly. "But if you want to make sure—his study is right over there." Diego pointed it out, and Rosarita shook her head.

"That wasn't what I meant, Diego," she chided but Diego only grinned.

"Would you like to play something more gentle now? How about a game of draughts?" Diego asked, and before she'd even answered, he started to take out the board.

"If you think draughts is gentle, you've never seen our fathers play!" Rosarita exclaimed, bursting into laughter and Diego grinned with her.

"Well, maybe gentle was the wrong word."

Rosarita sat down on the other side of the table from him, and while he set it up, she glanced around the de la Vega sala.

The piano, the fireplace, the case where they kept statues and mementos...

The way the windows opened onto the patio.

Oh, she'd miss it.

"You go first," Diego instructed, and she moved her white piece.

"Diego, isn't this beautiful?"

"It is a nice set," Diego said absently, rubbing his ear as he contemplated where to move.

Rosarita straightened. "I don't mean the draughts set!"

"The sala is nice too," Diego said, raising his eyes to meet her.

Rosarita realized he was being purposely dense and a reluctant laugh burst out. "I meant the whole afternoon," she said happily. "Even with the news, I don't think we've ever had more fun than we did sword-fighting."

"It wasn't fighting," Diego said, raising laughing eyes to hers again, as he moved his black piece over the board.

Rosarita noticed a jump and took it, ignoring the rest of the board. "You know what I mean. Diego, it's such a pity that girls don't usually learn how to fence."

Diego took a triple-jump and Rosarita didn't even notice. "Si. Then they'd never need to fear banditos."

"Oh, who cares about banditos? I'm not talking about sword-fighting, I'm just talking about fencing. Just the thrill of having a sword in one's hand...I'll never forget it."

"Neither will I," Diego said, letting the conversation carry him away. "Rosarita, I want to be the best swordsman you've ever seen, and more than that, I'm going to be. When I go to Spain, when my father sends me, that's what's going to be most important to me! Of course, I'll be glad just to be there, and to see all the old churches and read all the old books, but those will be nothing to how I'll feel when I have a sword in my hand and when I win my first competition. King me," he instructed and Rosarita lifted a piece to place on top of his black one.

"I wish I could go with you," she said wistfully. "And see all the churches and read the old books and watch you win all the trophies they have to offer! And you will, Diego, won't you?"

Diego nodded, quite assured of himself.

* * *

"I see that you've joined us again," Don Alejandro remarked after they'd said the evening meal prayers.

"Si, Don Alejandro. Diego invited me and my mother gave permission."

"Did your father tell you something today?"

He _had_ known, of course. "Si. He told us we are moving to Monterey."

"Do you look forward to it?" Don Alejandro asked, taking a sip of wine.

"I—I'm not sure, Don Alejandro. I just learned today and, well, I'll miss Los Angeles, that I know."

"Monterey is where the governor stays," Don Alejandro pointed out. "Do you look forward to meeting him?"

"Si, I suppose so. I haven't had much contact with public officials," Rosarita mused. "I mean, the Viceroy comes sometimes, but I've only met his daughter, Constancia, when she visited without him."

There was silence; Rosarita and Don Alejandro both noticing that Diego hadn't said anything.

"What do you think of it, Diego?"

"I'm happy for Rosarita," Diego replied. "I think it will be a good opportunity for her. Besides that, I suspect that Monterey will be very exciting."

"I don't even know anyone there, except my grandmama. I'm worried," Rosarita confessed.

"Don't be. I know of quite a few girls your age who live there, and I'm sure they will be happy to meet you," Don Alejandro reassured her, and Rosarita smiled at him.

"In your honor, I asked Cresencia to serve desert tonight," Don Alejandro told her, and patted her hand comfortingly. "And after that, I can give you names of all the people I know in Monterey who will be happy to call you friend."

Rosarita felt a lump come into her throat at his kindness, and she smiled. "Gracias," she whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

* * *

On her last day in Los Angeles, Rosarita Cortez was told by his father that Diego was fishing.

She'd spent the earlier hours of that day visiting with her mother, saying goodbye to friends and family, and she was dressed in her best white dress, feeling very grown up.

Her mother, once the visits were over, had dropped her off at the de la Vega hacienda just moments ago, and she'd been led to the sala.

After a moment's wait, Don Alejandro came out from his study.

She jumped up instinctively and then curtsied when she realized it wasn't Diego. "Your pardon, Don Alejandro. I was looking for Diego."

Don Alejandro came down the steps and motioned to the servant standing by, and he quickly hurried away.

"My son is fishing, but I'd like to speak to you, if you'd accept me as a replacement?"

"Oh, of course, Don Alejandro!" She exclaimed. He gestured for her to sit down again, and she did so swiftly.

Don Alejandro also sat down, in the chair opposite hers, as the servant returned, bearing wine.

Rosarita was tickled. He was treating her like a real guest!

"Rosarita, I know you are leaving us, and believe me, I do wish you weren't," and he poured them both small amounts of the wine. "You have always been a very welcome guest in this hacienda."

"Muchos gracias," Rosarita said, in return, for the compliment and the glass of wine. She tasted a sip and wasn't disappointed.

"I will make a toast," Don Alejandro said and she hastily put her glass back on the table. "To you, and to Diego, and whatever may come next. Salud."

"Salud," she repeated and they clinked the glasses together before drinking.

She also liked the second taste.

"You know, I expect you will visit sometimes," Alejandro commented.

"Oh, definitely! My uncle will still be living here and I feel sure my parents will let me visit. Maybe every summer!"

"Like Ricardo del Amo does?" He asked, eyes twinkling.

Rosarita choked on her wine. "Maybe not summer," she gasped, and Don Alejandro laughed.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have teased. Besides, you did come to see Diego. On that note, that's a very pretty dress."

"It's my best. Mother had it made because we were leaving." Rosarita explained. "And gracias."

He stood, and she followed suit, and he kissed her hand in farewell. "Diego is fishing in the Torres stream. Don't tear your dress getting there."

* * *

Mindful of Don Alejandro's cautionary words, Rosarita went a bit slower than usual, so as to be more careful.

The way to the Torres stream was over pasture and grassland, and she kept her skirt as high off the ground as she dared while picking her path.

The day was hotter than usual, and she wished she'd taken her parasol with her from the carriage, but, as usual, she'd forgotten all about it the second the de la Vega hacienda came into view.

Ducking below branches, and cautiously descending the little hills, Rosarita finally reached the hill overlooking the stream, and spied Diego.

Her dress was more than forgotten, it was completely dismissed, as she hurried down the hill to him.

"Diego!"

"Shh, you'll scare the fish," he warned. "I've already caught two."

She halted immediately, crushed by his dismissive words.

His concentration remained on the fish, but she could see his eyes flick to her and then back to his pole.

She wanted to sit and wait, but didn't dare, because of her dress, which had once more became important. She spied Diego's jacket laying on the ground and she moved towards it.

"May I—"

"Si, just be quiet! One more fish!"

She moved the jacket under a tree, for shade, and arranged it carefully. Then she painstakingly gathered up her skirts and sat down, frowning as she watched Diego.

There was a breeze, once you were nearer to the water, and Rosarita leaned back on her hands, trying to relax as she waited for Diego to finish. It wasn't like Diego to keep her waiting like this. And on her last day in Los Angeles…

He kept his mind on his fishing, though, casting and recasting, and just waiting for the wooden bobber to duck under the water. He lost two worms and baited one more, waiting for his ever elusive third fish.

Rosarita was relieved when that fish finally swam in and took the bait, and Diego finally finished and started gathering his things. Rosarita tensed, wondering if she should stand, but he merely made a pile, checked on his already caught fish and walked over, flopping down on his back next to her. He looked sullen.

"Diego?" She said, hesitantly.

"Hmm?"

"Aren't—aren't you going to say something?"

"Say what?" He asked, shading his eyes with his hand.

"Oh, goodbye?" Rosarita returned, trying to sound careless, but her voice betrayed her and the words came out in a voice higher than usual.

"Goodbye, then," he muttered.

"Diego! Don't you care?"

"About what?" He asked, sitting up with flashing eyes.

"That I'm leaving!"

"Of course I do!" He bit out, still scowling. He stood up and she scrambled to her feet. "Of course I don't want you to leave and of course I want to ask you to stay but you can't, so why say anything at all?"

He was walking now, and Rosarita hurried after him, into the sunlight and over rocks by the stream's edge.

The afternoon sun caught the water, making little rainbows.

"And I would do just about anything to make you stay, but there's nothing I can do!" He turned around, and Rosarita was shocked to see tears in his eyes. He grabbed her hand ."Rosarita, I—I might love you. Please, will you promise me something?"

She would have given him the moon, the way he was looking at her.

"What, Diego?"

"When we're grown, if we aren't already, will you marry me? It's such a good idea. We can live right here in Los Angeles and you'll never have to leave again!"

"Oh, Diego, of course! And it is a good idea!"

"We should make it official," he muttered and looked around him. "How can we seal it?"

Rosarita knew how she wanted to seal it, but instead proffered her hand, intending for Diego to shake it, but instead he raised it to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles, something he'd never done before. He kept her gaze the whole time he did it, and Rosarita's stomach made a funny little flop.

"It's sealed," she whispered, pulling her hand away.

Diego was looking at her so intently it hurt, and she smiled, slower than usual and she was surprised to see him blush, and to feel heat on her own cheeks.

He took her hand again. "Yes, it is," he murmured, squeezing it, and Rosarita thought her heart would burst.

There in the afternoon sun they said vows she hoped—expected—to last a lifetime.

* * *

End Part One.


End file.
